The raven on the roof
Cries out a warning
Of the mourning that is sure
To arrive.
With the west winds
Outside is colder
Than I have
Ever recalled
I wrap my coat like a cloak around me
Tightly tightly
And hurry home.
The raven sits and watches
A gleam of something
(Malice or sorrow)
In his beady eye
Watching the little
World hurry by
Like pieces on a chess board
All the while
Crying out a warning
That I'll forget as soon as
I'm indoors with the kettle on
And warm lamp light
To keep away the shadows